A Mistake Mended
by Melodi
Summary: Moments before Ron pops the question, Hermione breaks up with him! When Harry and Ginny confront her, what will Hermione do? Will Ron forgive her? And can he save Hermione from her elusive kidnappers in time? R/Hr and H/G
1. Champagne High

My first stab at a Ron/Hermione fic. please don't eat me if you don't like it! I assure you, I WILL make it a happy ending! It just may take a while...

Thanks so much to AngelwingS for inspiring me to write this, and for giving me the song "Champagne High" by Sister Hazel.

I, unfortunately, do not own Harry Potter. If I did, there'd be a fifth book already.

**A Mistake Mended**

Chapter One: Champagne High

Hermione Granger, a normally prim and proper witch in her mid-twenties, was uncharacteristically sprawled across her bed, her head hanging off the end allowing her light brown curls to cascade to the floor.

"I just don't know, Gin" she told her best friend, who was sitting cross legged on the floor next to the bed, reading Cosmo Witch and painting her toenails. "I can't believe it's happened myself; I just, well, I don't feel anything there anymore."

"It's like a little piece of me has changed. It's not necessarily gone, per say, but I can't see this relationship I have with your brother really going any further."

Ginny's eyes widened in shock and she whirled around to face Hermione, knocking a bottle of Sevi's Perfect Color Nail Potion (Changes to match your outfit!) over and spilling the foul smelling goo onto the carpet.

"What?" Ginny managed to burst out. With a wave of her wand, the mess was cleared and the carpet returned to its previous state of immaculativity. "But, you two seemed so much in love. I've seen the way he looks at you, Hermione, there's no way he'd ever look at anyone else like that. He loves you. And you do care for him, why throw it all away?"

"Ginny, aren't I supposed to be the voice of reason around here? It doesn't feel right anymore. Something's missing. Besides, for years you've been trying to get me to act with my heart and not with my head. Well, now's that time. I need to do this."

Ginny started to say something, but Hermione sat up and held up a hand to silence the young redheaded woman. "I will do this, for his sake and mine. Merlin only knows I've needed some breathing room for a while, and there HAS to be some girl out there that's right for him. It just isn't me."

"I'm going to end it - tonight."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Flying around in the backyard of the Burrow with three of his brothers and two of his best friends, Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom, Ron Weasley was truly content to just feel the breeze in his face and to dodge enchanted miniature pumpkins, courtesy of Fred and George's Bludger Creation Extravaganza. With rogue gourds running rampant in the air around him, it was easy for him to forget the war being fought every day, and to slip back into happier childhood memories.

Now, the war against Voldemort had been won years before, in his sixth year. Harry, Dumbledore and Sirius had constructed an alternate dimension full of immortal, insufferably happy people for Voldemort to be caught within. No, he wasn't troubled by that war.

He needed to forget his internal war. The one about his relationship with Hermione. "I love her as much as I possibly can. Why am I even questioning this? She would have said something before if she didn't reciprocate at least a little of these feelings."

Ron pulled his broom in an abrupt about-face and sped off through the trees, following a small, cut broom path through the foliage down to his favorite spot by the river. Seeing his best friend's distress, Harry ducked to avoid a pumpkin and then followed. Calling back that he'd see the Quidditch group later, he raced to catch up with Ron.

Harry found the twenty four year old sitting under a large weeping willow tree, his knees pulled up to his chest with his head resting on one knee. A small black box was in his hand, and he kept turning it over and over in his palm before straightening up and motioning for Harry to join him.

"It's funny," he said when his friend was settled next to him. "To think, something so tiny could change your life forever." He opened the velvet enclosure to reveal a small gold ring perched on a pillow of midnight blue satin. A single, princess cut opal was set in the thin band, catching the light and shining rainbow speckles onto the ground near their feet.

"Ron, mate, when are you going to ask her? It's been over a month since you bought the ring. If you wait too much longer, she might get some crazy idea like, 'I think I'm going to go to law school today,' and ship herself off to Harvard Law in America. You have to ask her soon. Like tonight, when you go out to dinner."

Ron looked horrified. "_She's leaving?_ Bloody hell! I thought she said she was done with school after she triple majored at Oxford! Why didn't she tell me? Oh, I should have asked her last week when I had the chance!"

Harry threw up his hands in exasperation. "No, Ron, as far as I know, she's not going anywhere. If you don't ask her soon, though, she may very well be. Do it tonight." As he spoke, an owl swooped down to land before him, holding a small, neatly folded square of pure white parchment.

"It's Athena, must be Hermione's reply about dinner." Ron said absentmindedly, as he stared at the ring in his hand once more. Since Ron wasn't paying any attention, Harry took an owl treat from his pocket and gave it to Athena. "Let me give him the letter when he's sane again, okay? Go talk to Hedwig, she's back at the Burrow."

The owl launched into the beautiful April afternoon as Ron fell back into his memories of the last conversation he and Hermione had had about their future.

*** Flashback ***

Sitting together on the roof of the North Tower, Ron and Hermione cherished their 'alone time' as they called it. Sometimes they'd do homework, or catch up on what had been happening in their busy lives as Head Girl and Prefect, but mostly they just sat together in companionable silence, knowing that next year, everything would be different.

Today was one of those days. Ron was sitting up, leaning back on the small pillar which jutted out of the top of the gently sloping roof. Hermione was lying down on her back, watching the sunset with her head in Ron's lap. As the fiery orange sphere sank below the horizon, spraying a vast array of pink, peach and violet hues across the watercolored sky, Ron twirled a lock of Hermione's hair around his fingers, marveling at its softness.

"Hey, Mya," he said softly, not wanting to shatter the peace which had settled over the scene like a blanket. "What's going to happen to us when we graduate? I mean, I know I'll be at the Auror Academy, and you're going to be at Oxford majoring in who knows how many magical fields, but, well, what's going to become of our relationship?" His ears turned red as Hermione focused her chocolate brown eyes on his.

"Well, I expect that we'll see each other on holidays and weekends, Ron. The only reason I'm staying in England is because our families want me close until the terrorism threats are finished from that new overlord, Bianca, in America. Otherwise, I'd be over at the Liberty Conservatory in July. Why?"

Ron tried to hide his hurt expression by looking to the left of him, where the luminescent reds and oranges were fading slowly into a deep shade of purple. "I thought that we'd be able to see a lot more of each other, like everyday, maybe."

Hermione sat up with a huff. "Oh, honestly, Ron! You didn't expect us to get married right out of Hogwarts like your parents, did you? Almost no marriages directly after graduation work; most people are too naive to be involved in a serious relationship like that! Besides, your parents only got married when they did because your mom was already two months pregnant with Bill when school got out! They HAD to get married."

Ron shook his head. "You don't get it, do you? Everyday, I fall a little more in love with you. Each morning, I wake up, and my first thought is always, I get to see Hermione today. And then, my heart is filled with joy so pure and intense I didn't know it was possible to experience. Not until I met you. I don't care if you tell me that I'm too naive to feel these things, I just know what's in my heart. And it's you.

"Waiting a whole week just to see you, to hold you in my arms, to ask you how your day has gone, hell, that'd be torture beyond a thousand Cruciatuses. I don't care if you tell me that we need to get out and see the world, meet new people; I don't want to meet anyone new. And my world is sitting right in front of me.

"You're really all that matters to me now, Mya. Sure, I have my family, but you can only take so much of the Weasleys at one time. But you... I can never get enough of you, just sitting next to you. Talking about seemingly insignificant things. Watching you sleep. You amaze me every single day, and I'd like to keep being amazed, every single day for the rest of our lives. You're the only girl I'll ever want to be with, and I'm willing to stake my life on that claim. I love you, Hermione Elisabeth Granger. You're my one and only."

Hermione turned his face back towards hers, and gave him one soft, sweet kiss. Then collapsing, she fell into his arms, sobbing into his shoulder. Bewildered, but unable to control the feeling of euphoria that came whenever he touched her, Ron wrapped his arms comfortingly around her waist, patting her back until her tears subsided to the occasional hiccup.

"Thank you, Ron," she said quietly trying to clear her face of her tears with her hands, but failing. Gently, he took the hem of his cloak and wiped them all away, then kissed either cheek. Relaxing back into his original position, Hermione lay her head back on his lap, gazing at the now velvety blue sky, dotted with sprinklings of crystal white stars.

"I'm sorry if I made you feel like I was calling you immature, Ron. I was really thinking more of myself. I'm not ready to settle down yet. I've got wings, and I need to try them out before they disintegrate. I don't know what to tell you, other than I'll try to see you as much as I can. I don't like this arrangement much, either, but it's the best, for both of us, at least until we finish school and obtain stable jobs."

They sat in silence, staring at the clear sky, illuminated slightly by a crescent moon bathing the grounds in a silvery mist. "What can I do, then?" Ron asked gruffly.

"Wait for me."

*** End Flashback ***

Ron sat up so hard and so fast that Harry, who was calmly sitting next to him opening the letter from Hermione, tore the paper cleanly in two. "Hera's thumbs, I'm tired of waiting! We're done with school, and we've had jobs for over three years now! I'm going to ask her tonight!"

Harry gave a sigh of relief. "That's good, and you better be ready for a night of a lot of excitement, apparently she's got something important to tell you, too."

Ron made a grab for the letter, pushing the two halves together so he could read the complete message.

_Dear Ron,_ it read, _Dinner tonight at The Plaza would be lovely. I have something very important to tell you, so the private room you have reserved sounds just perfect. I'll expect you at eight. Hermione._

Folding the letter up and putting it in his pocket along with the ring, Ron bounced to his feet. "C'mon, mate," he called to Harry. "It's six thirty! I've got to get ready for dinner with Hermione!" He jumped on his broomstick and sped off, feet grazing the tips of the treetops as he flew top speed towards the rickety old house.

Harry shook his head and reached for his Supernova 2, his graduation present from Sirius and Remus. _I swear that boy's bipolar... we're gonna have to get him into a shrink before the wedding,_ he thought, laughing to himself. As the sun sank behind Ottery St. Catchpole, Harry flew back at a more leisurely pace than Ron. The biggest event in the trio's friendship was about to happen, and he didn't want to ruin any of Ron's excitement. Pausing a moment before entering the Weasley household, he played back his memories of Ron and Hermione. Smiling, he entered the comforting chaos that he now called home, wondering why none of this happened sooner.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hermione sat on her bed, pulling on a pair of flesh colored stockings. "I don't need to hear any more of your excuses, Virginia Louise," she said. "I will go through with this! I don't need two guilty consciences nagging me until Ron comes to pick me up." Strapping on her black high heeled sandals, she stood up and walked over to the vanity.

Hands shaking, Hermione picked up her perfume bottle and sprayed her wrist with the light floral fragrance. _Just don't think about it... the more you dwell on how hurt you think Ron might be, the worse it will seem when you actually tell him. Just breathe, and everything will go according to plan,_ she told herself.

Hermione inhaled the sweet aroma as she put the cap back on the bottle. As memories floated back to her from the Ministry of Magic Christmas Gala from last year, she was calmed and stopped shaking. In a very Hermione-like fashion, she had of course, planned out what she was to say and exactly when to say it.

Now all she had to do was wait.

"Hermione, are you sure about this? I mean, I thought-" Ginny's voice came from behind her, where she was magicking curls into a seemingly haphazard mound on the top of her head. Hermione cut her off.

"Hera's thumbs! Yes, Gin, I'm sure. It's for the best, for both of us."

Ginny shook her head sadly. "I wasn't asking if its for the best, Mya. I was asking if its what you really want. You could be the most successful businesswitch in the world, and not be happy if you had no one to share your success with."

As the doorbell rang, Hermione stood up. "I've got to do this, Gin. Wish me luck."

Ginny just nodded, and then tossed Hermione her coat from where it hung on the bedpost. "You'll need this, if you're going to walk or Apparate home. I don't know what kind of my mood my brother'll be in, so you might not be coming home together." She went to answer the door while Hermione straightened her short, slinky black dress.

Opening the door, Ginny's eyes found a very cleaned up and jittery Ron, and a smiling Harry. "Hey, come in!" she exclaimed, trying her best to look excited in order to reassure her brother. "Mya's coming Ron." She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and whispered good luck in his ear before wrapping her arms around her boyfriend.

"It's just horrible... I'll tell you when they've gone. Oh, I feel so bad for Ron right now," she whispered into his ear. He pulled away and stared at her quizzically. Hermione chose that moment to emerge from the back room. All Ron could do was gape at how beautiful she looked.

In the short amount of time that Ginny had taken to answer the door, Hermione had totally changed her outfit, wearing a halter sundress in the palest of yellows, with eyelet lace overtop the entire sheath, which stopped at just above her knees. Instead of her heavy coat, she had donned a white crocheted duster sweater, and the stockings had disappeared entirely, leaving her bare legs to tantalize Ron as he stared at how angelically beautiful Hermione looked.

Hesitating slightly underneath all the stares, the only thing that revealed this to be the same discombobulated young woman from minutes earlier was the underlying aura of strength and confidence which radiated around her.

Hermione walked over and gave Ron a quick hug, and then nodded at Harry and Ginny. Ron grasped her hand tightly in his, and brought it up to his mouth, giving it a soft kiss. Hermione looked up at him, startled, and their eyes locked, freezing the moment.

Like a deer caught in the headlights, Hermione found herself unable to move under the brightness of the love Ron was emanating from his eyes. Frankly, it scared her, and Ron obviously could see that, for he dropped her hand and said simply, "You look absolutely stunning."

She nodded her thanks and said weakly, "Ready to go? I'm starved!" Giving a little half-smile, Hermione told Ginny to just let herself out when she and Harry were done eating there, and she'd talk to her in the morning.

As soon as they Flooed out of sight, Ginny slumped to the floor, curled up in a ball and leaning against the back of the sofa. Silent tears poured down her cheeks as Harry dropped to his knees beside her. "Gin? What's wrong?" he inquired, brushing back a lock of her deep auburn hair to better see her tear streaked face.

Taking a deep breath, Ginny answered him in stuttering phrases. "Hermione is... going... to break... to break up with Ron!!" she managed to get out, and all he could do was moan.

"Bloody hell, he's going to ask her tonight; he brought the ring with him and everything! Damn it!" Harry swore, causing Ginny to cry even harder. "Come here, you," Harry spoke gently, and drew Ginny into a warm embrace, rocking her back and forth until all of her sobs subsided and she had drifted off into a troubled slumber.

Shifting slightly, he picked her up and walked around the couch, laying her down and then sitting next to her, stroking her hair as she shifted to lean into him. As a small smile crept onto his face, he wondered how Ron was doing.

_Man, he thought, this is going to be a long night..._

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Over champagne, Ron and Hermione made small talk. "How has Auror training been? I know you've been assigned to Dennis Creevey... is training him as bad as it sounds?" Hermione asked.

"It's worse. But, I need to talk about something really important. Dennis and his disasters can wait for some other time," Ron replied, fidgeting slightly in his seat as his hand slipped into the pocket of his navy blue dress robes, feeling the small, yet comforting velvet box hidden within.

"Oh, good, I have something to tell you, too. May I go first?" Hermione inquired a bit formally, her nerves getting the better of her. Ron nodded, and she ploughed ahead.

"Lately I've been thinking, about the future, and where I'm going to be next fall when I get my promotion to CEW of MagiWeb. I'm going to be traveling more frequently, at least once or twice a month, and I'll have longer working hours, too. I've also had an offer to be the Arithmancy/Muggle Studies teacher at Hogwarts, which I'm seriously considering accepting. Of course, that would mean I'd have to live on campus."

Ron nodded, not quite seeing where this was going. "You know I fully support you in whatever decision you choose to make."

Encouraged, Hermione rushed forward. "I need to think about all of this and lately I've been slipping behind in my work in order to spend time with you and the family. I think... I think I'm really being smothered by it all. I need some air. I think we should call it quits, right here and now. I need to be out on my own for a little while, not permanently attached as one half of an item. I need to just be me. We need to break up."

Ron dropped his champagne flute, shattering it and spraying little shards of glass everywhere, along with tiny drops of the light beige colored liquid. A rather large piece sliced the top of his hand, but the pain in his heart was too excruciating to notice the trifling throbbing in his hand. "Wh-what did you say?"

"Oh, Ron, you know you heard me the first time! Be serious about this for once!" She was getting angry now. "We're both facing promotions at work, and I just can't see this relationship with you going any further than it is right now! Get over your boyhood crushes and face the facts! Something's changed between us in the past month, and you have felt it as well as I. Get your head out of the clouds, and wake up. We're through."

"But, Mya..." he trailed off. "You want me to be serious? You want me to be serious about this? Well, I happen to know that I am seriously in love with you..." A single tear rolled down his pale, lightly freckled cheek. "Isn't that all that really matters? I could care less about promotions. If I was the friggin' assistant janitor at the Auror Academy, and I had you to come home to every night, I'd be the happiest man alive."

Hermione shook her head. "I'm sorry Ron," she whispered, eyes glittering with tears she was unwilling to let through. "It's just not meant to be." She stood up and picked up her purse. "See you around," she said in farewell, and Disapparated with an almost inaudible pop.

Ron saw her leave, and then dropped his head into his hands and let the tears freely flow. 'It's all over,' he moaned to himself, 'she's gone forever...'

_*I wasn't looking for a lifetime with you_

And I never thought it would hurt just to hear

"I do" and "I do"

And I do a number on myself

And all that I thought to be*

The waiter came up to Ron and tapped his shoulder. "Sir, are you going to be all right?" The grandfatherly figure held a large amount of compassion in his merry green eyes, and Ron could tell he'd seen heartbroken young men and women in his restaurant many times before. "There's a nice path out back, takes you out to the lake by means of the forest if you need to clear your head. And don't worry about the wine, son. It's on the house."

Ron muttered his thanks and struggled to his feet. He emptied his pockets of change (4 Sickles and 12 Knuts) onto the table, saying that was the tip, and staggered to the back door. Every step seemed to be harder and harder with the piece of lead that was where his heart used to be.

_*And you'll be the one_

That just left me undone

By my own hesitation*

He broke into a run, dress robes becoming entangled within the brambles on the side of the narrow path whenever he veered off course. Running blinded by his tears, he almost pitched headfirst into the lake. Luckily, he tripped over a tree root and got himself a face full of sand, inches from the lake's surface.

He pushed himself into a sitting position and started as something fell out of his pocket. The ring. He stared at it for a moment, then picked it up gingerly with his thumb and forefinger, as if it had suddenly fallen from heaven, and not his pocket.

_*And for the million hours that we were_

Well, I'll smile and remember it all

Then I'll turn and go

While your story's completed,

Mine's a long way from done*

He opened the box, and there it was. The circlet of gold that should at that very moment, be on Hermione's fourth finger. With the opal shining in all its ethereal beauty in the moonlight, Ron suddenly became enraged that he had been taken for such a fool, had let himself be hurt like this. He snapped the box shut in anguish and fury. He stood up, infuriated that he had let himself fall victim to his emotions like that. Ron turned to face the lake, a seamless pane of glass shining in the moonlight, and hurled the small velvet box as far as he could, relishing in the victorious sound it made as it splashed into the cold water.

_*Well, I'm on a champagne high_

Where will I be when I stop wondering why

On a champagne high

I'd toast to the future but that'd be a lie

On a champagne high...*

Realizing what he had just done the instant the ripples dissipated, Ron collapsed into a heap on the shore, eyes stinging from the salty tears that threatened to spill once more. Letting the floodgates loose, he cried until there was nothing left to cry anymore. The moonlight bathed him in a supernatural glow as he lay there, curled up and in intense sorrow.

He wiped his face with the torn sleeve of his dress robes, and tried to straighten himself up before he returned to the restaurant to Floo home. He didn't trust himself not to get splinched if he was to attempt to Apparate in this state. As he trudged back to the building, his heart cried out in torment.

_My one and only..._

Like? Not like? Comments are very much appreciated! Flames welcomed, as long as they're constructive (I can use them to heat my history class... it's cold!), because then I can make it better! Many thanks to my sorta-kinda-maybe betas, Harmoni and AngelwingS...

Oh yes, my dictionary definitions of the day:

immaculativity = in a state of that which is immaculate; being very clean 

discombobulated = being in total disarray, confused, especially where the areas of the heart are considered

Until next time, Melodi 


	2. Cry

Hello, again. Yet another episode of the breakup is here, and it's a tear-jerker, to be forewarned. Sorry for everyone who's had to wait for what they felt was a long time; I've had finals to study for and many long rehearsals for band and choir. *sigh*

I had to figure out some way to get Ron and Hermione forced into a situation where they were required to be with each other for a whole day, and it was necessary they be happy about it. So, we're having a wedding! Seamus and Lavender are getting married, and as the best man and maid of honor, they are dance partners. What will happen?

This chapter is for Brooks. Thanks for being there when I needed you the most. Also, because you've inspired me to use the song _Cry,_ by Faith Hill, due to some certain experiences at homecoming and the like. *cough* enough said on that...

Once again, I must say, I do not own Harry Potter. But if Oliver Wood ever goes up for sale on Ebay, let it be known that I will outbid everyone. Then I can say I will own one Harry Potter character.

**A Mistake Mended**

Chapter Two: Cry

Ron stumbled onto the front porch of the Burrow, fumbling for his wand to unlock the door. Once it opened, he was almost deafened by the silence. Looking into the front hallway through eyes swollen into tiny red slits from crying, he nearly missed the fiery haired blur which whizzed around the corner and attached itself to his knee.

"Unka Won! Unka Won! Whewe's Anty Mya? Whewe's Mya?" Chandler, his three year old nephew shouted from knee-level, glued to Ron's leg.

Ron sniffed, and a fresh wave of tears sprung to his eyes as he remembered how much his family had loved Hermione. Especially Fred and Angelina's youngest - Chandler. He always had followed her around like a little puppy, loving to hear stories about Hogwarts and to learn whatever her 'lesson of the day' was.

"Chandler! What are you doing here all by yourself? Where is everyone?" Ron asked, wiping his eyes on his sleeve and turning his head to the left, facing the wall so the young child would not see the anguish eating away at his heart. His face was twisted into a strange contortion of misery as he managed to utter in a shaking voice, "Wait, never mind. Go into the kitchen and get Uncle Ron a cup of tea, will you, Chandler?"

The boy must have sensed some urgency in Ron's voice, as he ran back around the corner and through a doorway is a rush of wind. Moments later, Ron heard the sounds of a young boy climbing onto the counter, and knew he was safe for the moment. He turned back to the wall, to gaze at the item which had spurred the tears on seconds earlier. 

It was a picture, taken in the summer after graduation. He, Hermione, Harry, and Ginny had gone out for a picnic one day, and brought along Ginny's black and white Muggle camera. Ginny, on an independent study project with a professional photographer over the summer, had insisted she add to her portfolio with a series of photos of her brother and his girlfriend.

The painstakingly long process of carefully directing them into the poses she wanted and then setting up the camera was well worth it in the end. She had won first prize in a photography contest later that year, for 'truly capturing the spirit of young love,' as the head judge, Mr. Fuji Kodak explained in a long conversation he had with her after the prizes were awarded.

Everyone's favorite photo had been this one, though. With a background of pale pink crepe myrtles in full summer bloom, Ron had sat on the ground in front of Hermione. Kneeling on a small flat stone, she had thrown her arms around his shoulders, her head resting on his at a slight tilt. Hundreds of wispy brown ringlets had fallen to the right, and been slightly tossed by the wind as Ron brought his hands up to cover Hermione's.

Staring hard at the black and white photo framed on the wall, Ron couldn't recall ever having remembered something with such clarity before. One single, silent tear escaped the confines of his eye as he recollected everything from that summer afternoon. 

The taste of the corned beef sandwiches that Mrs. Weasley had packed for them. The way Hermione looked with the small, fluffy crepe myrtle blossoms got caught within the slightly tangled mass. Her hands clasped within his, giving him strength and courage, and most of all, love. The light vanilla scent of her shampoo he caught whenever the wind blew her hair into his face. The melodies interwoven within each other whenever he heard her laugh.

Everything about Hermione put him on sensual overload. Ron dropped his cloak in a clump in the hall, and trudged into the kitchen, where Chandler was sitting at the table, quietly drinking tea. 

Ron sat down and said his thanks, thickly. The lump in his throat prevented him from doing much talking at all, and the throbbing in his heart helped to remind him of how much he had just lost. Chandler hopped off the chair he was sitting in and brought Ron the second cup of tea. As Ron took the cup of steaming liquid from his nephew, Chandler scrambled into his lap and wrapped his arms around his neck in a giant toddler hug.

"Mya's not coming over anymowe, is she, Unka Won?" he whispered into Ron's ear. Ron's lower lip trembled, along with his voice as he answered the little boy.

"No, Chandler, she's not."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Walking down the moonlit streets of Hogsmeade, Hermione squinted at the buildings, trying to read the signs through the blurry silver haze created by her own tears. _Why, why, why??_ she moaned inwardly. _If ever I had imagined Ron's reaction being so harsh, I never would have mentioned it! Why can't he be more rational about this, though?_

She stumbled onto the steps of the Three Broomsticks, and collapsed onto the bench swing that hung on the porch. Sagging into the gaudy floral pillows Madam Rosmerta kept there, she curled up into a ball and let all of the emotions building up inside of her heart come free. As she cried, her body shook the entire bench swing, causing it to writhe uncontrollably on its weather-beaten silver chains. 

Eventually, when her sobs subsided, Hermione fell into a deep, troubled sleep, dreams full of the moment captured forever in her mind's eye - Ron's eyes full of tears and him slumped over the table, like a man broken.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Hermione, wake up!" A distant voice caught her attention. Surfacing from the depths of her oceans of dreams, Hermione awoke just enough to feel someone stroking the hair out of her eyes as they knelt next to the swing, making it rock slightly. "Come on, love, hiding out in Rosie's bar isn't going to make your life any easier, no matter what your troubles are. Open your eyes, there's a dear." A soft, almost unrecognizable accent spoke to her, coaxing Hermione out of her disturbed slumber. 

She opened her eyes and started; the sun was peeking over the horizon and shone directly into her eyes, the golden morning glow magnified into millions of sparkling diamonds from the dew droplets still hanging on the lush blades of grass in the lawn. Her hand flew up to shade her eyes, so she could discern who had awoken her so gently. A small, yet muscular young man with mouse-brown hair and chocolate eyes framed with short, dark lashes peered up at her from his perch on the floor. "Looks like you had a rough night, huh, Mya?" Neville Longbottom said.

"Neville! What are you doing here?" Hermione exclaimed, rubbing the sleep and the sun from her eyes, and trying to shift her dress so the wrinkles weren't quite so noticeable. 

"I was coming to get a Butterbeer after my late night shift up at St. Athena's Children's Hospital, and I just found you. Are you okay?" he replied, expression one of concern for his fellow classmate and exhaustion from treating the young patients in the world's first Muggle/Wizarding co-facility. He worked with the cancer patients, one of the few diseases that afflicted both magic and non-magic kind, and that couldn't be affected by the normal healing magic just yet. 

She sniffed and shook her head, tears forming as scenes from the night before danced around her head. "No, I'm not okay, not at all." she murmured. 

Neville clasped her hand in his and pulled her to her feet. "Come inside. I'll buy you a drink and we can talk about it. Maybe I can help with what's troubling you." He smiled, then tugged her through the door. 

After they had found a nice quiet table in the back and had received their drinks (Neville had a Snape's Quicker-Picker-Upper, Hermione just plain black coffee), Hermione began to spill her story. Much like throwing a gigantic stone off one's back, she felt much lighter as the words came out, easier minute by minute.

"And then I broke it off. Called it quits. Just in that instant, I knew I had made the biggest mistake in my life - I had seen my heart breaking in _him_. Like he was a mirror for my emotions, and whatever I was feeling, so did Ron. How could I have been so _stupid_??" She slammed her fist down on the table.

Neville sighed. There was a reason he hadn't become a counselor. "I really couldn't tell you what to do, Hermione. I remember my great-aunt Edna once shouting from the depths of her urn, "Everything's all right in the end... if it's not all right, then it's not the end!!" So, since everything is quite _wrong_ about this whole predicament, then it's obviously not the end." He sighed at the puzzled look on Hermione's face. 

"My family is a little, peculiar with their living arrangements. Edna was actually considered normal when compared to her sisters. One, Canie, was forced to take residence within a shoe (she used an Engorgement Charm on it, of course,) with her hundreds of kids after becoming bankrupt, and the other, Marisa, voluntarily was Severus Snape's roommate in Potions College." He paused, as Hermione's eyebrow raised slightly. "Don't ask."

"Anyways, my advice would be to just follow what your heart tells you - just do what it wants to, and maybe when Ron sees that you still care for him, he'll accept your apology."

"What I want to do right now is snog him senseless." Hermione stated, matter-of-factly.

Neville waved his hands in front of him. "That might not be the best idea just yet. How about some sort of letter? You could owl him. Or, better yet, talk to him at Seamus and Lavender's wedding tomorrow. I heard that you two have been promoted to Best Man and Maid of Honor, since Parvati had her baby yesterday. A healthy girl, they said to tell everyone, April Marie Thomas. They're staying at home with the baby, obviously, since you can't take a newborn to a wedding."

A huge grin broke the mask of sadness Hermione had been wearing. "That's wonderful! I'm so happy for them!" She took a sip of her coffee, the spit it out all over the saucer as she realized something. "Neville, if... if I'm the Maid of Honor, and Ron's Best Man, then that means... we'll have spend the _entire day together!_ What if he refuses to talk to me, or makes a scene in front of everyone?"

Neville stood up and smiled. "He's too good of a man to ruin someone's wedding with his own emotions; he'll be putting on a show for everyone and pretending nothing's wrong. You'll have to be an actress for a day, and do the same thing." He kissed the top of her head as he pushed in his chair and placed a few coins on the table. "Just think about what I said, okay? And don't dwell on it too much - your hair will only get frizzier from the stress." He winked, and walked away as Hermione brought her hand instinctively up to smooth down her hair.

"Neville, wait!" she called a few moments later. He returned to the table, trying his best not to yawn. Taking care of very sick children in all hours of the night drains your energy, whether or not you are magical or Muggle.

"Yes, Mya?"

Hermione tapped her fingers together nervously, staring at the table. "Well, what if, even through all my sadness, I uh, still think it was the right thing to do? I mean, it really wasn't going anywhere - the relationship wasn't growing, or drifting apart... we were just, oh, I don't know, stagnant." She folded her arms on the table and buried her face in them. "I'm so confused."

Neville lifted her face up so he could look her in the eyes. "Hermione Granger, this is something that I can't help you with - you need to decide what you feel. If you truly think that you will be happier and better off without being tied to Ron, then act like nothing's wrong, and eventually, he'll see the light. If you feel that you are going to be happier without him, then have faith in your actions."

Hermione nodded, a little of her old resignation showing through her weariness. She watched Neville leave, then followed his footsteps to her way home.

Mumbling softly to herself with thoughts turned into something slightly more substantial than jello, Hermione weaved her way through the tables and reached the fireplace, where a roaring blue fire was licking the inside of the flue. "Mya's Flat!" she called, and was spun off home.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When Molly and Arthur Weasley came home with the rest of their family, they weren't shocked to see two figures huddled together on the couch. They were, however, surprised to find who the identities of these two figures were, as the entire Weasley clan was herded into the living room. To much disappointment, it was only Chandler being held by Ron, instead of Hermione. As the pair slept on, questioning looks being shot every which way throughout the family, Ginny came careening into the room from a side hallway.

"Mum! Mum! Come quickly, Harry's very sick! I think we should just let Ron sleep and talk to him in the morning, for we must get Harry immediate medical attention! Make Charlie and the others go home - they shouldn't be getting sick with Lavender's wedding tomorrow! Hurry!!" she said in a frantic whisper, all the while shooing her brothers out the door and taking her mother by the arm. As she dragged her mother up the stairs, Ginny explained what was wrong.

"After Ron and Mya left her flat in London, Harry and I stayed there and ended up eating Chinese takeout while watching Minerva's debut as the grandmother on that new soap opera, _The Young and the Magical_. Something must have been wrong with his dinner, though, because he feels terrible! I put him up in Ron's room, and I just hope he's okay... he said his stomach hurt really badly and that he was getting a migraine... he's been going through fever and chills as well... what's wrong?"

They had reached Ron's room, and a low moaning sound could be heard emanating from the small space. Gently, Mrs. Weasley opened the door to see harry thrashing around on the bed, holding his scar and groaning in agony. "Oh, it hurts, it hurts!" he wailed theatrically. Smirking, Ginny leaned against the doorframe as her mother fretted over Harry like a mother hen. "Stay still, Harry, and look at me." she said.

Complying, Harry stilled his outrageous motions and turned to face his surrogate mother. Mrs. Weasley smiled. "You're a good patient, unlike my sons. Now, what hurts, dear?" She smiled reassuringly. 

Harry's eyes flicked over to the door, a look of panic gleaming in his eye. Ginny frantically pointed first at her head, then her stomach, and finally wiped her hand across her forehead while shivering. She winked, and Harry started to explain his symptoms.

"My, uh, stomach hurts. And so does my head. And I'm tired and I'm having spasms, but all I really want to do is go to sleep, but talk to Ron first. Can you send him up here, Mrs. Weasley?" He made a very pathetic rendition of the puppy-dog eyes that he used to see Dudley make at Aunt Petunia. Over Mrs. Weasley's shoulder, he could see his girlfriend, who had smacked her hand across her eyes at his antics.

Mrs. Weasley tutted at Harry and shook her head. "You are one sick young man, but since you asked nicely, I'll let you see Ron for a while. Let me go wake him. Ginny!" Her daughter snapped to attention. "Use this cloth to keep the fever down, and you know how to do basic healing charms. I'm sure he'd be much more comfortable if you helped him. But be quick, we don't want him to have a seizure and break a rib." The old woman bustled out of the room, frizzy gray hairs sticking out of the bright red bun pulled up at the nape of her neck.

As soon as they were confident that Mrs. Weasley had left, Harry sat up and Ginny breathed a sigh of relief. "Spasms, Ginny? What did you _tell_ your mother I had?" Harry questioned, an edge in his voice. 

Exasperated, Ginny hissed, "It was supposed to mean fever and chills, you dummy! I do not look like an epileptic when I'm shivering!" 

He shrugged. "At least you're a cute epileptic."

She made a face at him and then went over to sit next to him on the bed. "I don't know how we're going to tell Ron this - I know he wouldn't ruin the wedding, but how will he take it if he knows Mya still thinks she did the right thing, even though it's obvious they're both miserable without each other?"

"He'll need all the time he can have to get ready to be 'Ron the actor,' especially because the reception party is at the Matza-Ricci Castle, across the lake from The Plaza down in Hogsmeade. If being near the place she broke up with him won't set him off, I don't know what will."

Harry sighed and then laid back down, sinking into the comforting depths of Ron's pillow. "I just hope he doesn't do anything stupid or rash like normal," Harry said, his eyes closed. "I know this is mean, but I'm kind of hoping he'll be too stunned from being hurt to do much of anything tomorrow."

Ginny stroked his forehead, running her fingers over Harry's lightning bolt scar, faded as the years passed by. "Don't worry. I'm sure Ron will take it just fine," she said soothingly.

"Take what just fine?" a deep voice growled from the doorway. "This had better be good, Harry. I'm in no mood to talk about anything but maybe burning the Hogwarts library to the ground. Then maybe Hermione'll be sad about _something_." He stalked over to the trundle bed which had been pulled over to the wall next to the window, and threw himself, facedown, onto it.

Harry and Ginny looked at each other, then Harry nodded as if to say _ He's your brother, you tell him!_ Sighing, the young woman trudged over to sit next to her brother's crumpled body. "Well, Ron," she began, "you know how Seamus and Lavender's wedding is tomorrow?"

"Not going" came the muffled reply from the pillow.

"But... but, Ron," Ginny sputtered, looking to Harry for help. "You _have_ to go!"

"To hell I do," Ron snarled, sitting up so quickly he knocked Ginny off the bed and onto the floor. "I don't have to do anything, Virginia. Much less go to a gathering full of joy and happiness to spend time with that snotty little brat who's not interested in anyone but herself. Bitch." he seethed, crossing his arms firmly across his chest and frowning in a very unbecoming way.

Quickly, Ginny cast a Silencing Charm on the room from her position on the floor, and then spoke up once more. "Ron, what will Lavender and Seamus say when their best man doesn't show for the wedding?"

He shrugged. "Not _my_ problem, that's Dean's job. I expect they'll hang him upside down by his pinky toes in a broom closet full of feathers for a week or so - standard Finnigan torture, I understand. I don't care. I'm not going."

"Uh, Ron, you haven't heard about Parvati yet, then, have you?" Harry questioned, sitting up in the bed across from him. Raising an eyebrow, Ron shook his head. "Well, she had her baby yesterday, so both she and Dean won't be going to the wedding."

'Congratulations to them, send the lucky couple a fruit basket. What the hell does that have to do with _me_ going to the wedding?" Ron said caustically.

"Well, you see..." Ginny began, and bit her lip. She couldn't quite figure out how to say it. 

"See WHAT, woman? Bloody hell, this is impossible! First you two are telling me that I have to go to a wedding in which I will be absolutely miserable, and in doing so, ruin the entire mood of the happy occasion, then you start raving about how Parvati's a mother!! Nothing you have said yet applies to me!!!" Ron burst out irrationally, rendering his two companions paralyzed for a split second.

He stood, then strode over to the door. "I'm leaving. I'm not going to that wedding, and there is nothing you can say to me that will make me change my mind." He had the door opened and was halfway into the hall when Harry called out, "You're the best man, Ron! You _have_ to go!"

Ron turned back around and snapped, "No, Dean is. We already went over this, remember? Why can't the two of you just leave me the hell alone and let me sulk in peace? I'm not exactly sociable at the moment, and would very much appreciate it if you just LEAVE ME BE!!" He stalked out, slamming the door as he went. Ginny sighed. 

"I'll be right back, we need to knock some sense into him." She scurried up off the floor and out the door, whispering spells as she raced down the twisted hallway. Moments later, she returned red-faced and with her hair blown every which way. "He put up more of a fight than usual," she explained as she held out a large jar to Harry.

Inside was a tarantula.

Harry reeled back. "What are you going to DO with that thing? Is this some sort of torture device you use on Ron? Because I think he might faint if he saw it. Keep it away from him."

Ginny smiled, a cunning gleam in her eye. "I can't keep it away from Ron. It's physically impossible." She walked over to the armoire on one side of the room and placed the large arachnid into Scabbers' old cage. Harry followed, wrapping his arms around her waist and pinning her to the chest.

"And why, exactly, is that?" he asked. 

"Because that IS Ron."

Harry staggered back, a shocked expression on his face. Ginny turned and giggled at his countenance, a mix of horror and awe showing through the dropped jaw. "You-you transfigured your brother into a tarantula?"

Ginny nodded. "Yep."

"But... why? Are you going to take him to the wedding in your pocket and tell people, 'Sorry Ron couldn't come to the wedding, he's a bit tied up right now...'"

Ginny snorted. "That was a horrible joke, Harry. And no, I'll change him back within the hour. I just figured I could talk some sense into him if he was confined in a small space. He knows how to throw off the Full Body-Bind now, so I had to search for an alternative means of restriction. Besides, maybe this will help him get over his fear of spiders."

Harry shook his head in amazement as Ginny turned back around, performing a few more spells on Spider Ron. After a moment, Ginny motioned for Harry to join her in front of the armoire. "I put a Translator Charm on him, so he can understand what we're asking him, and he'll be able to answer us in English. There's also a Magnification Enhancer on his voice, so we'll be able to _hear_ what he said. I'll leave him like this for about five minutes, I guess, or however long it takes him to agree to go to the wedding."

They leaned their ears closer to the cage, and were met with a wall of sound. Ron was shouting so he could be heard, and he didn't seem to be too happy.

"Virginia Annelise Weasley! What the hell have you done to me? I'm tiny and in Scabbers' old cage for cripes sake! Turn me back to normal and stop being ridiculous!!"

"No, Ron. Not until _you_ stop being ridiculous. If you had stayed in the room long enough for Harry and I to finish our explanations, you would have heard exactly why you need to go to this wedding." Ginny's voice had a slight edge to it, and it was tinted with malice and annoyance, a combination which didn't bode well for Ron the Spider.

"But.." Ron stuttered.

"For heaven sakes, Ron, let her finish!" Harry burst out. He put a reassuring hand on Ginny's shoulder, which she reached up and covered with her own. Ginny bent down so her eyes were level with all eight of her brother's.

"Ron, Dean cannot come to the wedding, because Parvati had her baby yesterday. They will both be staying at home taking care of their new daughter. So now YOU are the best man. You have to go. What's more important, Lavender and Seamus's wedding going as smooth as possible (you know, there's a slight hitch in the whole thing if you're missing one of the wedding party), or you being able to sit at home and sulk for an extra day? I promise I'll let you sulk as much as you want Sunday."

A few moments passed in dead silence. "Are you coming or not?" Harry asked, truly curious. Ron started pacing around the cage. Back and forth, up and down the walls he scuttled, subconsciously weaving a web while the human portion of him pondered the wedding situation. 

A minute passed. Then five. Apparently, Ron had a creative genius for webmaking. "Has he ever read Charlotte's Web?" Harry whispered into Ginny's ear.

She shook her head. "I don't think so, but looking at this, I'd have to say yes."

While Ron was thinking really hard on his decision, his spider half of him had already decided. Four letters were being created in the web as he crawled with alacrity around the bars of the cage, proclaiming to Harry and Ginny he had conceded.

"O-K-A-Y," Harry read aloud. "Well, that settles it. Do you think he knows yet?"

Ginny shrugged. "Let's just ask him, then, shall we? Ron!" she called into the confines of the cage. The spider stopped his scuttling and dropped to the center of the cage floor.

"What is it?" Ron asked.

"Does your, um... handiwork behind you mean you're going to the wedding?" Ginny snickered.

Ron shrugged. "I am going, but what do you mean handi-whoa! What the heck is that? Ginny, why didn't you tell me there was a spider in the cage with me? Get it out get it out get it out..."

Bursting with laughter, Ginny grabbed a compact mirror out of her purse and held it up to Ron. "Look in the mirror, Ron, and tell me what you see," she said, in between giggles. An occasional chuckle was heard from Harry, behind her, as well.

Ron gazed into the mirror, blinking all eight eyes in order to get a clear picture of the monstrosity he had become. He screamed. He shrieked. He panicked. Ron ran over to the furthest corner and delved headfirst into the pile of wood shavings lining the base of the cage.

"Ron," Ginny sang, trying to coax him out of his corner. "Oh, Ro-on... come out... Stop acting like an ostrich... you can't hide from yourself, you know..." The mound of spider and wood chips shifted slightly as Ron came out, shaking with fear and fury.

"You turned me into a _spider_?" he yelled as Ginny whipped out her wand. _"Finite Trece Incantatem!_" she whispered while simultaneously removing Ron from the cage. With a small popping sound, he was sitting on the floor and back to his original state of being, still screaming at the top of his lungs.

Looking slightly more tomato than human as he stood up, still stringing multitudes of curses together and aiming them towards his sister, Ron stormed out of the room, slamming the door so hard as he left that a Chudley Cannons poster of Ian MacDonald peeled slowly off of the opposite wall, landing at the foot of the bed.

"I think that went rather well, don't you?" Ginny said. Harry stared at his girlfriend who was now re-taping Ian to the wall. 

"Well, at least he's going to the wedding now," she explained.

"Ginny?" Harry asked. "Remind me never to get on your bad side. I don't foresee me ever wanting to be transfigured into some sort of small creature for interrogations and lectures."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Saturday morning, the wedding party arrived early to take pictures. Ginny, since she wasn't too close of friends with Lavender, had been hired as the wedding photographer. The bride had chosen to have the pictures taken in the castle's northern gardens, for the southern ones by the lake were to be used for the reception party after the ceremony.

After Lavender's insistence that she didn't want a whole 'lot of stiff-looking, snotty people' in her wedding album, everyone had been ordered to come in casual Muggle street clothes. As Ginny was setting up her camera and tripod, the wedding party milled around the garden in twos and threes, jeans and polo shirts looking very out of place next to Venemous Tentaculas and the Fire Azaleas, which were just beginning to bloom in pale pink flames.

With a huge list of shots needed, Ginny decided to get started as soon as she could. "Lavender!" she called to the bride. Lavender twirled around from the back of the garden, her hair cut into a short bob that swayed with her as she gracefully scurried to the camera, dragging a protesting Seamus all the way. Seamus never had liked getting his picture taken, and this was no exception.

Once they were settled on the bench in a position both suited to the photographer and the subjects, Ginny started clicking away, her mind preoccupied with the well-being of Ron and Hermione. So far, they were standing on opposite ends of the garden area, and stealing glances at one another when they thought the other wasn't looking. As luck would have it, though, they always ended up making eye contact and then breaking it as fast as they could, pretending they didn't notice the other one had been looking at them too.

All in all, it was quite irritating to Ginny, who could see the whole thing through the lens.

"Okay," she nodded to Lavender and Seamus after various poses and almost an entire roll of film had been taken, "you two lovebirds are free to go now. Can you collect my brother and Mya for their shots, please? I need to check on something." As Ron and Hermione were being rounded up, a woman in her mid-forties walked up behind her. 

Ginny turned around. "Oh, hello, Mrs. Brown," she said to Lavender's mother, who was observing the photography session. A Muggle-born witch from America, Delilah Brown was somewhat out of place amongst all of the calmer, more soft-spoken people milling around the garden. Petite as she was, her voice sounded as if it belonged in a woman three times her size; she was that loud.

"Hey, y'all," he called out to Ron and Hermione, who had seated themselves on the extreme opposite sides of the bench, "Scoot yourselves a little closer, y'hear?" Hermione reluctantly moved to the center of the bench, and Ron, if possible, moved farther off of the end. "No, no, dear child, _closer!_ Heavens to Betsy, honey, that sweet girl won't bite! Sit your bootatamus next to hers, and hold her hands! Up, by your heart where we can see them, sugar! Now, lean your head next to hers... perfect!" She nodded at Ginny, who had her camera ready.

As the camera clicked away, taking about a shot a second, Hermione hissed through her smile at Ron. "Why won't you stop being stubborn and just cooperate for once, Ronald Weasley? It wouldn't kill you just to be helpful for a change, now would it?"

"As helpful as you were when you kicked me out of your life? That blow's still stinging, Hermione, and it's hard to smile through the pain, no matter how much I care about Seamus and Lavender," he whispered into her ear as they changed positions, his vitriolic words eating away at her heart like acid. He stood up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders as directed, smiling as wide as he could to keep from crying, not knowing that Hermione, below him, was shaking with unshed tears as well.

A whirring noise came from the camera, and they were told to relax while Ginny changed rolls of film. "Gosh Ron," Hermione started to say, "I'm sor-" 

He stood up sharply. "You're sorry? Well, guess what, Hermione, sorry just isn't going to cut it this time, hun. You were right, a couple of days ago. We ARE through." He stalked off.

Hermione buried her head in her hands and slumped to the ground. _I finally get him to agree with me, and I'm even more miserable than before! What's wrong with me??_

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The time for the ceremony approached. The main hall, where the actual ceremony was to take place, had been lavishly decorated with peach and cream colored carnations, and soft, sparkling balls of light floated around the ceiling. All of the windows had been opened to allow the spring breeze through the hallway, producing the effect that it was actually a pavilion of some sort, instead of the entrance hall to an age-old castle.

Ron had been bitter and snappish to everyone all day, except Seamus and Lavender. He was in a horrible mood, but he really didn't want to ruin their wedding. Finally, everyone had changed and the beginning of the wedding was imminent, as he, Seamus, and Harry stood at the altar in their Auror dress uniforms, navy blue with cream trimming. A piano was playing _Ave Maria_ in the background as everyone finished being seated, and the wedding march struck up.

A fairy, in place of the traditional flower girl, came down the aisle, strewing glitter dust and flower petals all over the floor. Then came the bridesmaids, Padma Patil and Lavender's younger sister Heidi, wearing matching navy dresses. Chiffon rustled as they moved to the left side of the altar, the hoop skirts of their sleeveless dresses hampering their every movement.

Next to enter was Hermione, looking absolutely stunning as the Maid of Honor. A long, floor length strapless gown had been chosen for her, and while it lacked the ostentatious hoops the bridesmaids were wearing, it still flared slightly at the bottom, a layer of tulle pushing the navy taffeta away from her legs. Her light brown hair had been tamed once again, and pulled up into an elegant bun, secured on the top of her head by a small, single carnation, just beginning to bloom.

Ron couldn't take his eyes off of her. Try as he might to pay attention to Lavender, radiant with happiness, as she came up to Seamus and took his hand, or while they were listening to the pastor speak of the holiness of the covenant they were about to enter into, or even as they began taking their vows - all he could do was stare at Hermione. She was watching the happy couple receive their rings, and Ron used all his inner strength to throw his attention on Seamus and Lavender.

"The giving and receiving of rings is a symbol of the covenant in which you are entering, representing the joy, faith, and neverending love which comes with marriage. As you have both expressed your wishes to proceed, bless you both. I now pronounce you husband and wife; you may kiss the bride."

Seamus, with hands trembling from sheer joy lifted the delicate veil from Lavender's face and drew her into a soft, yet passionate kiss. As the entire congregation began to clap, Ron's determination gave out and he glanced back over to Hermione. To his surprise, she was staring at him with tears in her eyes. Both stood there, frozen, not wanting to break the eyes contact, the first peaceful correlation they'd had in days. Almost everyone had left the hall to go to the reception party when Ron finally snapped out of his trance and grumbled, "We'd better go congratulate them, and make a presence at the party, before someone thinks there's something wrong."

Hermione nodded, and followed him out of the hall and into the gardens.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dinner was a casual affair, just a basic 'eat what you want, when you want' buffet, complete with ghost waiters behind the table, conjuring up what you wished to eat, if it wasn't already there. The dancing was going on all night, and music was played by a sort of magical jukebox. The sensors picked up on the dominant emotions in the room, and played songs accordingly. (It also normally took requests, but after Padma and Heidi requested "It's Raining Men,' the request function was disabled by a very embarrassed Mr. Brown).

The first dance of the evening was, of course, solely for Lavender and Seamus. It had an intrinsic value, as well; this song had been played at Seamus's parents wedding. As they swayed around the patio, looking totally in love, one could even feel the adoration passing between the two of them.

_*Longer than there've been fishes in the ocean_

Higher than any bird ever flew

Longer than there've been stars up in the heavens

I've been in love with you

Stronger than any mountain cathedral 

Truer than any tree ever grew

Deeper than any forest medieval

I am in love with you

I'll bring fire in the winters,

You'll send showers in the springs

We'll fly through the falls and summers

With love on our wings

Through the years as the fire starts to mellow

Burning lines in the book of our lives,

Though the binding cracks, and the pages start to yellow

I'll be in love with you*

The song ended, and many other couples took the floor. Ron turned around to find Hermione standing there. "Would you like to dance now," she said, "and get our show for the general public over with?" He nodded mutely, too numb with pain and anger and confusion to lash out, and taking her hand in his, led her to a corner of the floor near the balcony, where no one was likely to bother them. It was also, however, home to the magical jukebox, and it sensed their emotional distress.

A song unlikely to be heard at a wedding came on as they danced, falling into the unwanted comfort of each other's arms.

Her head rested on Ron's shoulder, Hermione sighed. "I really am sorry for all of this, Ron. I didn't mean for any of this to turn out the way it did. Something, just felt strange for the past month or so, like your feelings toward me were different. You were antsy all the time; I figured you were trying to find the nicest way to tell me to leave, that's all. Our relationship sure wasn't growing any... and I don't want to be in something inert, that's just at a standstill. It's pointless."

Ron twirled Hermione out, then spun her back in dangerously close. "Listen, Mya," he hissed in her ear, looking to everyone else like he was whispering sweet nothings to her, "I have never stopped loving you; not even now, when my heart is hating you for all the cruel words that pierced it. I just wish you'd stop thinking with your head and start feeling with your heart."

_*If I had just one tear rolling down your cheek,_

Maybe I could cope, maybe I'd get some sleep;

If I had just one moment at your expense

Maybe all my misery would be well spent*

They waltzed around their little corner, nearing ever more close to the open French doors leading to the lawn, and then the lake only 5 meters below. They spun out the doorway onto the balcony as Ron continued, "If you don't love me, then so be it. But if you still do, then so help me god, I can't say what I'd end up doing - why can't you see you're pulling me to pieces with this whole ordeal? Aren't you at least a _little_ upset with what you killed two days ago?"

_*Could you cry a little, lie just a little,_

Pretend that you're feeling a little more pain

I gave, now I'm wanting something in return,

So cry a little for me...*

Hermione sniffled, a single tear rolling down her cheek as she listened to the strains of music playing a cruel irony with her emotions. "I-I still love you, Ron. I always have, and I know that I always will. I'm just not sure... well, if I'm still _in_ love with you. Oh, good lord, I'm so confused!" She broke away from him, and sat down on the grass inches away from the water. Ron stood a few feet away, kicking at the water's edge, his hands placed firmly in his pockets.

"So, basically, you've been lying to me for a while about how you felt, just playing along in this little game, not caring if anyone gets hurt, right? Well, guess what? _I got hurt._" Ron said bitterly, staring into the darkness hanging over the area. A single cloud was blotting out the moon, but the crystalline web of stars was still hanging in a net of hope above them. 

_*If your love could be caged, honey I would hold the key,_

And conceal it underneath the pile of lies you handed me;

And you'd hunt, but those lies - they'd be all you'd ever find

That'd be all you'd have to know for me to feel fine*

"Oh, Ron, you know that's not true! I'm straightforward, you know that. I would've said something sooner. But really, be realistic! There's no point in being in a relationship that isn't growing!" Hermione said, exasperated through her tears. She looked up at him, willing him, imploring him to believe her. Ron looked away again, watching the soft, gentle waves bring a stick into shore.

_*Give it up baby, I hear you're doing fine,_

Nothing's going to save me, I see it in your eyes,

Some kind of heartache coming, give it a try - 

I don't want pity; I just want what is mine*

"If only you knew what I've been through in the past week..." Ron tailed off as Hermione removed something uncomfortably familiar from the water. "What's that?"

Hermione's voice was filled with wonder as she held the small velvet box in her hand, dripping slightly as it had just been aroused from it's hiding place on the bottom of the lake. "It's a jewelry box. And it's not empty... where are you going? What's wrong? Ron!" she called as he took off running, up the hill and back into the castle as fast as he could, busting through the French doors at full speed.

She struggled to her feet, surprise and curiosity overpowering her strong urge to just sit and weep. Bundling her skirts in one hand, she kicked off her shoes and rushed after hi at full speed. Sprinting through the balcony doors, she frantically glanced around the dance floor for Ron, but he had already gone, either into another room, or Disapparated entirely. Ginny rushed over as soon as she saw Hermione in a large amount of distress.

"Mya! What's wrong? And why did my brother just come running through here?" she implored, leading her to an out-of-the-way table where Harry, Neville, and his girlfriend, Hannah Abbot, were sitting. Ginny gently prodded her into a chair and prompted, "Tell."

"Well, we were arguing about, well, 'us' and then this box washed up on shore. I picked it up, and he took one look at it and ran. I can't imagine why." Hermione explained, and then showed them the box. "I haven't opened it yet, but it's heavy enough to hold a ring or a pendant."

Ginny groaned, and slapped her hand across her eyes. "I _told_ him he should have come and retrieved it when he had the chance - now it's too late and the cat's out of the bag." She turned to Hermione. "Mya, when you went to dinner, and Ron had something to tell you, did he ever get to tell you what that was?"

Hermione shook her head.

"Well, this will shed some light on why he's so upset. He was going to propose to you, but you ended it before he got the chance." Ginny explained, as cautiously as she could.

Hermione gasped. "You-you... you must be joking. He couldn't- would he?" Tears started streaming down her face. "Oh, how could I have hurt him so..." Wiping a tear away, she protested, "But this wouldn't have anything to do with that," she pointed at the jewelry box on the table in front of her, "would it?"

Harry nodded. "That's _your_ ring, Mya. Your engagement ring. Open it up and see."

Fingers trembling, Hermione picked up the box and opened it. She gasped as the small black container revealed its contents, the opal still shimmering in all its beauty, despite being underwater for two days. Lifting it from its perch upon the satin pillow inside, she let the gold sparkle in the candlelight as she read the inscription on the inside of the ring.

_Hermione Elisabeth Granger_

Well, that's all for chapter two! Sorry once again for the wait... the holiday season kept me captive!! Many thanks to all my reviewers on chapter one, your comments were very encouraging, and kept me from trashing the story completely when it wasn't going where I wanted it to!

Many extra thanks, hugs, and brownie points to MystyAngel and FluorescentBen! for helping me figure out this HTML nonsense. Like I've said many times before, and will probably say forever - I hate technology, and the feeling is mutual.

I absolutely LOVE my beta readers, Jenn, AngelwingS, and (even more love) to MitieMouse, for our 2 a.m. beta swapping session- good times.

Disclaimer #2: I don't own the song "longer" by Dan Fogelberg, nor do I own _Charlotte's Web_, which was written by E.B. White. I think that's all.

If you think there was a serious lack of description in the wedding... there was supposed to be! It's from Ron's POV, and he was only focusing on one thing - Hermione. As it should have been.

Reviews VERY welcome, they keep me writing!!! Flames are acceptable... they will be put in a barrel and given to the hobo on the corner of Fifth and Main for a late Christmas present.

Until next time, Melodi


	3. If You Could Read My Mind

Back again, peoples, I am. Hectic times we live in. So, well, my updates are going to become few and far between for a while, I guess. Hopefully you'll still bother checking to read the end, which, I believe, will be very enjoyable. While lacking much action, this chapter IS in fact necessary to the plot of this story; I must write it or everyone will be confused while the action is taking place.

I don't own Harry Potter. Sure wish I had written the idea to create HIM on a napkin, instead of doodling pictures of Digimon characters... *sigh* my life's a waste of time. Anyways. JKR created Harry Potter, and the song _If You Could Read My Mind_ is performed by Gordon Lightfoot. I don't know who created Big Bird from Sesame Street... most likely CTW, but whoever it was, it wasn't me!

Thank you JKR for finally completing the fifth book! I will now have about nine hours of new Harry Potter literary enjoyment!! 

This chapter is for Derek, who believes in me. Thanks for the literary encouragement.

**A Mistake Mended**

Chapter Three: If You Could Read My Mind

A week passed. A shock to the magical community, Hermione Granger, CEW of MagiWeb, the largest magical technology corporation in the world, resigned from her prestigious (not to mention extremely well paying) position in exchange for a teaching position at Hogwarts. As there was only a month left of term, she was instructed to wait until mid-August to report to the school for living arrangements and teacher/staff meetings.

Right now, however, the was sitting on the balcony of her flat on the outskirts of York, watching the sun rise over the distant hills, burning away the spring mists that hovered lazily above the wildflower sprinkled field. A slight breeze whirled an apple blossom off the tree in the backyard and floated it across the veranda, the pale pink flower coming to a rest next to her hand on the table. The sunlight glinted on the circlet of gold she clasped between the thumb and forefinger of her left hand, tossing rainbows onto the white plastic surface of the patio table.

_What do I do?_ she berated herself silently once more, gorgeous honey brown eyes already swollen and puffy from the almost continuous tears shed in the past seven days. _I need to speak with him at once, but he won't even let me near him!_

She remembered with much sorrow the past Wednesday evening, when she had finally mustered enough courage to Apparate to the Burrow, apologize, and to implore Ron with all her heart and soul to give her a second chance. As soon as she reached the front door, though, it had been flung open by Chandler, Angelina chasing after him with a wet dishrag.

"Chandler! Stop this instant! You're covered in Daddy's new sweet! Stop it, before you get the entire house sticky! Chandler!" she scolded him as he leaped into Hermione's arms. Angelina walked over and began scrubbing the toddler as she talked to Hermione.

"Ron's upstairs, hon. I don't think he's in much of a mood for talking, though. Poor dear, he's only come out of his room twice since last weekend after the wedding. You really shocked him, hon, and finding that ring of his just threw him for a loop" . Angelina sighed, and pulled Chandler off of Hermione, balancing him carefully on one hip. "Go and get it over with," she commented, sensing the hesitation and fear leaking from Hermione's heart and coursing through her veins.

"Will he see me?" Hermione questioned as she walked slowly through the living room on the way to the stairs. "I know if I was in his place, I would have probably moved out of the country and changed my name - or something equally extreme."

Angelina placed her son on the tile floor in front of the stairs. "Go run upstairs and play with Daddy, will you sweetie? Mummy needs to talk to Mya." 

The youngster scrambled up into the darkness of the curving stairwell, giggling madly as he shouted, "Daddy! Daddy! Mummy says I get to play with you some more! Make me Big Bird again!"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. _Big Bird?_ she mouthed. Angelina laughed and shook her head. "The Ameri-Muggle children's show, Sesame Street? There's a giant yellow bird on it named Big Bird that Chandler absolutely adores. Fred and George were toying around with their Canary Creams, improving them, and ended up adding Engorgement Charms to them, thus creating Big Bird Bites." Angelina laughed once more, but sobered very quickly as she observed Hermione eyeing the stairs warily, a pale complexion becoming slightly green when faced with the prospect of climbing them to face Ron.

"Do you think he knows I still love him?" she whispered. "I do, you know. I don't know what came over me. I guess I was just tired and fed up with him skirting the issue... I suppose - I remember telling him once that I wasn't ready to take such a big step, and that he'd need to wait until I was. Maybe he figured it would take me this long, but I'm not sure it did. Take me this long, I mean." A single tear rolled down her cheek and landed on her hand, which had extracted the ring in question from her pocket. 

Angelina reached over and gave the tense woman a reassuring hug. "Everything will be fine. Just go up there and tell Ron how you feel. Tell him that you're sorry, and you're still in love with him. You've made a mistake, and now you're trying to mend it."

"But what if he won't listen?"

"Damn right I won't listen." A voice echoed down the dark and empty stairwell. "Why should I listen to _you_?"

"Ron!" she gasped. "Please, let me explain!" Hermione whipped up to face him, and brought her hands upwards to her mouth, where they remained, fisted and clasped together in a position of nervous anxiety. The ring, still clutched in her right hand, sparkled in the late afternoon sunlight beaming a deep orange through the window, striating shadows across Hermione's ever radiant form. Ron flinched back at the sight of it.

"Oh, I understand perfectly, Hermione. You've made yourself bloody crystal clear. You don't want to be with me anymore. What, back to rub it in?? He scowled and crossed his arms, shrouded in shadow as he leaned against one wall.

"No, Ron, It's not like that at all! If you'll just listen -?Hermione pleaded, her left hand moving to the banister as she started to make the journey up the stairs to him.

"I don't have to listen to shit," Ron replied, an then with an almost inaudible *pop*, he disappeared.

Hermione gasped, then rushed over to the fireplace. She nearly ran into the back wall of the chimney as she threw in the tiniest pinch of the glittering powder needed to power the transportation unit. Rushing through the Floo Network, Hermione clasped the ring in her palm tightly, desperately wishing not to lose the only piece of Ron she had left.

Hermione held the ring up closer to her face as she finished remembering the last time she had seen Ron. Peering at her name on the inside of the golden band, Hermione allowed a small, sad smile to creep across her face. _I'm going to cherish this forever,_ she thought, realizing the amount of love and caring and good fortune that had brought about the purchase of the ring. Even though she had received it under the most unusual of circumstances, Hermione would always keep it on her person, cherish it as if she had actually been proposed to. Hermione reached down to pick up her small china teacup from the table. She sipped it thoughtfully.

_I need a way to wear it, because I won't always have a pocket to keep it in,_ Hermione thought, _and so maybe Ron will finally see how much I still care - even though I need to recognize the fact he never actually asked me, so I can't wear it as an actual engagement ring. Maybe..._She got up from the table and walked inside, leaving the white gauze curtains hanging on the doors free to flap inwards to the living room, being blown by the spring breezes. Her tea, still steaming in its saucer, was left forgotten on the table, vapors that had soothed many a troubled mind wafting away into the cool April morning.

Walking swiftly into her bedroom which had been in an extremely messy state of disarray for almost a week, she kicked random piles of dirty clothes to the side, creating a narrow pathway to the vanity. It was a small, pastel green chest with a matching mirror balanced on top, and was situated on the opposite wall from the door, directly to the right of the bay window. 

Reaching into the small ebony jewelry box on the back of the table, she lifted the lid inlaid with mother-of-pearl lotus blossoms. Hermione dug through the tangled piles of childhood trinkets - cheap plastic and yarn necklaces and bracelets won at fairs and acquired over the years of her Muggle youth. Lifting up a small snake chain from the bottom compartment, Hermione opened the delicate clasp and slid the ring onto it. Then she fastened the smooth golden chain around her neck, relaxing in the comfortable pull the weight of the ring created on her neck. A small smile crept upon her face as she straightened the ring on top of her gray sweatshirt. Satisfied, Hermione walked back to the balcony to finish her tea.

Resuming her position at the table, Hermione fingered the ring on its chain around her neck thoughtfully while sipping her tea._ I wonder what Ron's doing right now. Will he ever forgive me, or at least let me apologize?_She sighed.

_If you could read my mind, love,_

What a tale my thoughts would tell

Just like an old-time movie

About a ghost from the wishing well

_If only he knew_, Hermione moaned inwardly, a caul of darkness surrounding her as the sun burned brighter in the sky, depression creating a great contrast in the moods of the setting. _ Oh, Ron, how can I apologize if you won't even look at me?_

_In a castle dark, or a fortress strong,_

With chains upon my feet; you know that ghost is me

And I will never be set free,

As long as I'm a ghost you can't see

Standing up from the wooden chair, Hermione walked to the railing and folded her arms on the top, leaning over slightly as she watched the last traces of mist swirl away, revealing the dewy grass two stories below. The wind blew pale pink petals from the tree to her left, sweeping them in whirling patterns into the distant fields, a slight fragrance tickling Hermione's nostrils as she disentangled the ring from her index finger. _If only I could walk in his shows for five minutes, just to know if he still cares._

_If I could read your mind, love,_

What a tale your thoughts would tell,

Just like a paperback novel,

The kind that bookstores sell,

When you reach the part where the heartaches' gone,

The hero would be me,

Heroes often fail

And you won't read that book again,

Because the ending's just too hard to take

The sun had completely arisen, and bright yellow sunbeams were streaming onto her porch, illuminating the area with an almost ethereal glow. Walking over to pick up her now empty teacup to taking it into the kitchen, she paused momentarily to gaze at the apple blossom sitting on the table, now accompanied by another blossom, newly brought by the wind. A small flicker of hope sparked alive within her heart, amidst all despair, and she continued on her retreat to the kitchen.

_I'd walk away like a movie star_

Who gets burned in a three way script

Enter number two

A movie queen to play the scene of

Bringing all the good things out in me

But for now love, let's be real,

I never thought I could feel this way,

But I've got to say that I just don't get it

I don't know where we went wrong,

But the feeling's gone,

And I just can't get it back

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

Rain splashed down in torrents, battering the figure as it rushed towards the dark stone castle, battlements thrusting upwards into the storm-torn sky, piercing the dark grey clouds. Partially lit by the occasional bolt of lightning, illuminating the menacing facade of the fortress, the figure dashed for cover from the storm. It reached the large, thick wooden door and yanked as hard as it could on the iron rings, straining with all its might to gain access into the safehouse.

"Please!" they shouted, trying to make themselves audible over the din of the storm, which lashed out at the figure's thin grey cloak, whipping it out behind the person and to one side, revealing a young woman dressed in Muggle street clothes and carrying a bundle, wrapped in many layers of tattered cloth. "Please, for the love of God, let me in!"

Suddenly, almost as if it was of its own volition, the wooden door swung open wide, revealing a dark hallway with a small, flickering yellow-orange light at the end. As she had been hurling herself at the door at the time, the young woman flew through the doorway with great alacrity, skidding down the hall on her side until her momentum finally subsided. Stiffly standing, and still clutching the bundle protectively to her chest, the girl limped slightly as she made her way towards the light. Her pale face, full of fear and curiosity, whipped from side to side as she tried to take in her gloomy and vitriolic surroundings.

At the end of the hallway, she was met by a torch hovering in mid-air. It moved from side to side and wavered slightly. The girl's violet eyes widened and, clutching her bundle to her breast, she turned to flee. "Wait!" a deep voice called as a hand appeared out of nowhere to grab her wrist. She writhed, kicking at the air in hopes of hitting her assailant. A head was revealed as the mysterious figure pulled the rest of his body out of the Invisibility Cloud.

The girl stiffened and shrank back against the wall as a young man came out of nowhere, holding the once-floating torch in his right hand and her left wrist in his left. Sandy brown hair glinted gold in the flickering light or the torch, and his deep blue eyes seemed to penetrate her soul, reading her secrets. The girl felt her knees give out in fear as he gave her a once-over and motioned to the wall he had just been standing in front of. "Come with me, Miss McLellan, the Mistress has been expecting you."

"She-she has?" the girl squeaked. "Who is - your M-mistress?" the teen inquired, a spark of unquenchable curiosity evident through the outward hesitation she showed at trusting this stranger. "And how do you know my name?' she asked, after a second look at the man. At an average height and only a slightly muscular build, he looked harmless, except for the virulent stare which pierced through his pupils, black widening in the dimming light until the deep blue irises were almost completely swallowed into the darkness.

"We have our ways of discerning even the tiniest tidbits of information about our contacts. Come along, Brianne, the Mistress doesn't like to be kept waiting." He tugged at her wrist and she jerked forward, unprepared for the sudden action which sent them flying through a solid wall, which, apparently, wasn't as solid as it seemed. She screamed.

A hand was clapped over her mouth and her arms pinned to her sides. "Don't scream," the man hissed venemously into her ear. "Don't make any loud noises or sudden movements at all." His hushed tones sounded afraid as her released her, eyes darting nervously from side to side. "There are things in this castle that we don't want awoken."

Scared by his fear and by the warning, Brianne had nothing else to do but meekly follow him up the stone spiral staircase into the darkness beyond. At the top they reached small platform with a large wooden door at the end. He pulled out a flat, silver disk with bronze Celtic runes raised in relief on one side, and fitter it into the matching slot on the great door where a handle normally would be. A flash of hot white suddenly illuminated the area and Brianne shielded her face by burying it into her bundle, which she still hugged close to her chest. There was a clicking noise, and the door opened ominously.

She was hurried into the room by the young man, and seated across from the fire in an ornate antique dining chair. Facing her chair, as the fireplace was directly to her left, was a woman who had come to sit in front of Brianne in a deep maroon armchair. She was wearing a bright red cocktail dress which left very little to the imagination under a black cloak, pinned at the top with a single rose brooch. In her early thirties, the woman looked remarkably young for her age as she nimbly tucked her black stiletto heels underneath her, finding a more comfortable position in the armchair. Her neatly styled black hair curled in layers around her face, just reaching her shoulders. Her skin, tan all over her body, lacked its rich coloring in her face, where black eyes glittered, becoming evilly prominent over beautifully sculpted features.

"That will do, David," she said in a deep, throaty voice. "Could you go and magic up the tea service? Miss McLellan looks parched." The man who had brought Brianne up into this tower bowed and walked swiftly through the far wall, grabbing n old copper key off of a hook as he passed. Brianne shivered and pulled her thin cloak around her tightly; in all the earlier confusion, she had not realized how cold she was. Glancing up at the woman, she cautioned a question. "Who are you?"

The woman clicked her tongue at Brianne. "Ah, ah, ah," she scolded, shaking her head so the dark waves of hair fell in a sheath, shielding half of her porcelain face. "Me first. When I've had my say, _then_ you can ask your questions."

"However, I'll humor you, just this once. I'm Bianca Rose to my close acquaintances and allies, or "Mistress" to the rest of the world. I've decided to enlist in your services as an Indigo Diviner." Brianne began to interrupt with protests of confusion, but the 'Mistress" held up a hand, dark slender fingers ending in frighteningly sharp scarlet tips. "I know you don't know what an Indigo Diviner is. It's why I've brought you here - to train you for the fight. In exchange for your services, I will give you shelter and two other agreements of your choice."

"You mean, I won't have to take Michael back to that - that horrible homeless shelter?" The outer layer of her bundle, which had begun to squirm, fell off revealing a baby boy about one year old. His pale face was half hidden by a tuft of jet-black hair which fell across his forehead in a haphazard manner. Brianne held the baby gently against her chest and rocked slowly back and forth. "If I agree to help you, can one of my conditions be that no matter what happens to me, my son would always be provided for?" Bianca nodded slowly, a cynical smile forming on her full red lips. Everything was going according to plan.

Brianne shook Michael gently as she thought. "What kind of services? I'm not a very good cook, but I clean just about as well as anyone."

"No, child, nothing like that. Your Seer powers, of course. As an Indigo, you should be able to see great distances into both the future and the past, mostly through dreams. Translating from world to world is also a possibility, as is soul-searching, or reading people's aura's, as well as their minds." Brianne's jaw dropped, a look of astonishment hanging on her face. "Yes, you can do all of these, along with large, powerful quantities of wandless magic. You've been using your talents for years, subconsciously, on instinct." The fire in the hearth flared, sending sparks crackling upwards that threw sharp relief of shadows, skewing the perspective of any to view the two figures. One could almost see a shadow encompassing the older woman, crossing the lines between imagination and reality.

Brianne gaped at the lady sitting in front of her. _Is she mad? I've never been able to do _ magic_. Not even those card tricks kind did for talent shows when I was a little girl. And read people's minds? She has got to be high or something._ She shook her head rapidly to clear it. "You're kidding me, right?"

"You'll find soon enough that I _never_ kid. Think back to a time long ago. Your parents were brutally murdered when you were six, right? And ever since then, you've had horrible things happening to you wherever you wander to.. Fate certainly has dealt you a cruel hand, hasn't it? Try to remember back to a time when you felt the future..."

A slight misty haze formed in Brianne's mind, a bluish-purple cloud swirling around her memories. Faintly, she felt strong, callused hands carrying her to the chaise lounge near the window before Brianne fell entirely unconscious.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

Ginny ate the remaining bite of her cucumber and tomato sandwich and leaned back against Harry. The April afternoon was unseasonably warm, and she and Harry had found the shadiest oak tree by the creek on the Weasley's property. The remains of their picnic had been thrown into the woods for the rabbits and gnomes to ear, and now the couple curled up in the warm, dappled sunlight, content in each other's company as they recalled memories of darker times past, and strange occurrences in the present, hinting towards another fight for a brighter future.

"Gin?" Harry asked as he absent-mindedly ran his fingers through her soft auburn curls, "Are you ever going to do something about your Seer abilities? I mean, with the new threats the Ministry's been getting that are pretty vague, and with this Bianca woman, well, she's smarter than Voldemort was on his rise to power. She's not publicly blazoning her arrival with Dark Marks everytime she does something -and there haven't been any sudden disappearances as of yet. Actually, she's got mine and Ron's Departments completely baffled. Why don't you come work in the Divination Department?"

"Oh, Harry, you know I can't do that. The kids at the school need me - for most of them, I'm the only adult they can trust. I'm really all they've got. Besides, visions come of their own accordance, and it won't matter whether I'm sitting in Trelawney's classroom, an office in the Divination Department, or my own classroom down at the shelter - I'll still have the same amount of psychic power in any situation. When the Spectrum gets restarted, then I'll find myself a replacement. I'm sure Evonne would take over for me if I get called away... like last time."

Harry pulled her closer. "I can't believe I almost lost you back then. That was the scariest week of my life, not knowing where you were, not being able to find you if you were hurt, not even being able to talk to you. You were sliding worlds with Aberforth Dumbledore..." He buried his face into her neck, squeezing her tightly, as if he could prevent her from sliding worlds once again.

She smiled as she remembered learning worldgating from Dumbledore's brother. Abie, as she had dubbed him, was not the fool the media had made him out to be - no one had let him explain that the goat he had been performing charms on was his mother-in-law, trapped within an illegal Animangus state. He was the most powerful Seer in the world, however, which required certain eccentricities, if not a touch of reclusiveness; he didn't need all of the silly, common witches and wizards asking his help to find their house keys, or wondering about their love lives. Which is why he slid so frequently - to get away from prying people- making him the perfect tutor for Ginny to learn worldgating, or the making of a temporary path from one world to another, from.

"Harry, that was the best week of my life - with the exception of the last day. I learned how to worldgate!! Unlocked my powers! For once, I wasn't just the littlest Weasley, I was somebody. I could _do_ something about the war, instead of just sitting around here in hear and hiding."

"And do something you did. I still feel a mixture of awe, pride, and shock everytime I think about you and Aberforth _creating_ the dimension I cursed Voldemort into." His eyes clouded over for a fleeting moment, and Ginny realized he was thinking about Sirius.

"Harry," Ginny twisted around in his arms and cupped his cheek in her palm. "We knew someone would have to make a sacrifice. Voldemort wasn't just going to walk into the portal. And it needed to be sealed from the inside, which Voldemort wouldn't do, either. I--" She stopped herself as his expression turned from one of grief and guilt to one of confusion.

"You what?"

Ginny took a deep breath. "I've never told you this, for many reasons. One, you'd have reacted badly if I had told you before; and, well, you were grieving for Sirius for a long, long time! Over a year! And you kept crying yourself to sleep in the common room, blaming yourself... I didn't want to put any more pain on you."

Harry was conflicted. All these things were true, but he didn't understand where this was going. "What didn't you tell me?"

Ginny sighed and kissed his cheek lightly. "Don't react when I say this. I don't need you going off and hexing the gnomes into tomorrow, or accidentally magically blowing up Ottery St.Catchpole like Fred did when he found out Angelina was pregnant."

Harry gave her a funny look. "Okay, I won't blow anything up, or put curses on the gnomes. What is it?"

"I was supposed to go through with Voldemort and lose the gate, but Sirius pulled me aside at the last minute and insisted he take my place - for _your_ well-being."

Harry reacted anyways, sitting straight up, his body tense and muscles rigid, throwing Ginny off of him in the process. "He did what? He could have lived and he chose to - wait, you're saying _you_ were going to be the person stuck in Dimension 5 With Voldemort? Why didn't you tell me? I could have... I don't know..."

"Could have stopped me?" Ginny supplied. "Could have taken my place, have you go instead of me? That's why I was forbidden to speak of any of my plans to either you, Ron, or Hermione. Abie told me that in order for the gate to close entirely, the sealer on the other side had to be entirely willing to live there for the rest of their mortal life, and if you _had_ known, I would have hesitated, and the whole thing would have been botched beyond belief.

"Sirius went in complete faith that he would be creating a better world for you and everyone else to live in, so he had no remorse." She crawled over on her knees to where he was still sitting stark upwards in shock, and, holding his face, wiped a tear away with her thumb. "It's all for the best, Harry. Don't blame yourself for such a noble sacrifice. Just be thankful that you were able to be in the life of such a wonderful man."

Harry sighed. _Why does she have to be right all of the time?_ He nodded complacently, then asked a question which had been nagging at the back of his mind. "Did you and Abie ever find the Indigo you were looking for? I thought Voldemort was after her, and you started worldgating to search for her. You were going to have her stay at Hogwarts to keep her safe, right?"

"We searched six worlds with his scanner and found an orange and three whites, but no one nearly powerful enough to be the girl we were looking for. There was a strange energy trail in Blanca New York, but when we traced it to the origin, it was a dead end at an alley. We decided that is must have been either a fluke or a Portkey gone awry... there were wards around the whole street, so it might have done something strange like transport the Portkey user through a world rip."

"So, until she's discovered, you're second in the Spectrum only to Abie? He's graduated to Violet, correct?"

"Yeah. It's great that we've got such a charismatic and intelligent leader now, he's much better than Jed Ragsdale was. Pity he went insane and is now teaching choir at Beauxbatons." Ginny smirked as she thought of the pale, dark-haired man teaching Fleur Delacour's sister to sing.

"When are you going to recall the first session of the Spectrum?" Harry asked. I mean, you're going to sill have to look for the Indigo, right?"

"Yeah, we still can't find her - she's not in this world, or Atlantis. Well, at least she wasn't last weekend." Harry sat up and looked at her as Ginny clapped a hand over her mouth, turning bright red and rolling over, away from him, to face the stream to her left. "I should NOT have said that."

"That's where you disappeared to in the middle of the day? Why you were almost late to the wedding? A _Spectrum_ meeting? And an unauthorized one at that? The Ministry hasn't been informed of this - Abie could be sent to Caer Myrddin if anyone finds out about an unsupervised Spectrum meeting, as well as you, being second in charge. The public is still scared about you guys form a couple of years back."

"Harry, you don't understand." Ginny curled up, exasperated. "The spectrum can't be regulated by the Ministry or by any other legislative body of mortals. It just happens! It's been called in times of need for thousands of years - far before the Ministry was even created! You can't authorize when people get called to the spirit world! It just happens!"

Harry lowered the tone of his voice slightly, sensing the pain of misunderstanding coming from his girlfriend. "Gosh, Gin, I know. But those buffoons in the Regulations Department don't know anything. Bloody bureaucrats - the regulatory officials are all Fudge's strongest supporters from before Lupin was Minister. They want everything under their control and dislike things they don't know enough about. Dedalus Diggle is the only one keeping them from trying to shut it down entirely." He cocked his head to one side, puzzled. "Not quite sure why, though."

"He's an introductory yellow. We found him astroprojecting in the Leaky Cauldron one day after he had a bit too much to drink. Passed out, he did, but his spirit was till harking for some more liquor and went up to Tom to ask for another Bloody Mary. Bit of a problem, however, for astra-spirits can't speak. So when Tom tried to shake the words out of him and his hand went straight through Diddy, he freaked and called the Aurors."

Ginny giggled as Harry gaped. 'Well, the experience frightened Tom half to death, and Abie and I had to Obliviate him as well as three other people in the bar and an entire squad of Aurors, all twelve of them. e had to trick them into thinking it was a prank call, and blamed it on a name we made up on the spur of the moment. Hope some kid named Michael Moser isn't in Caer Myrddin right now."

Harry shook his head in amazement. "Dedalus Diggle's in the Spectrum? This is more than I can understand. Why doesn't he come out in the open? It's something you should be proud of, not hide it in a closet with the rest of your figurative skeletons."

Ginny sighed, and scooted back over to lay her head in Harry's lap. "Over half of the Spectrum is anonymous, Harry. We're feared and hated, ridiculed and envied. To most people, we'd be better off dead, or stuck in another world they'll never be able to reach. That's why we're so secretive, or at least part of it."

"The other part is the same reason we aren't called to session except in times of need. We can't do common and petty things like tell you if you'll meet the love of your life in the next ten days, or what you'll wear tomorrow, or where your car keys are - that's stuff for Muggle psychics, occasionally whites and crystals... but oranges and above are too high on the psychic power scale to be able to see these things. We get all the murders, rapings, assassination attempts, kidnappings, etc. that happen. It's not a pretty picture. Which is why most of the Spectrum members eventually go insane."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Brianne found herself in an alley that looked frighteningly familiar. The sun had barely set, and a dim twilight had fallen over the city she had landed in. Walking cautiously around the cardboard box near her feet, Brianne tried to exit the alley, which was growing more ominously scary by the moment. She walked straight out towards the sidewalk, bustling with sobered, silent people, all dressed in contrasts of black, white and, grey. Brianne ran into something invisible, which glowed electric blue for a second and then disappeared once more as it thrust her backwards into the wall behind her.

Panicking, Brianne closed her eyes and started to rock back and forth. _I know I've been here before... and something bad is going to happen if I don't get out of here... how can I get out?_ She started shaking once more and her breathing began to come in short, irregular gasps.

A crackling sound was heard from her left as a tall lanky figure entered the alley, cloaked entirely in mystery and shadows as he walked straight through the barrier, no visible affect on him at all.

"Oh my God, please, you have to help me! I can't get out of here! Please, help me leave... something bad is going to happen if we don't leave right away!" she cried, running to the man silhouetted by the flickering streetlight behind him.

"Something bad, you say?" a cynical voice asked. Brianne shied away from the man; he had the voice of a nice person turned horribly bad, corrupted by hard years and a lifetime of shady acts. He grabbed her arm and pushed her against the side wall of the alley, squeezing her arm until she cried out in pain. "Something bad _could_ happen if you don't agree to come with me. We've been looking for you for a long time, and your services are all we need."

She gasped as his grip became even more vice-like. "What do you think I am? I'm not some sort of hoe you can just pick off the streets whenever you want - I'm not who you think I am! There must be some mistake! I'm lost... Please," she begged as the pain became unbearable," Just let me go and leave me alone!"

"Only when you agree to come with me," the attacker snarled, an evil grin curling on his lips. He brought his knee up to her stomach and pinned her to the wall, bringing his face down mere inches from hers. "Just say yes, you pathetic bitch, and no harm will come to you."

Brianne screamed and kicked at the attacker's shins, missing but grazing the side of his knee slightly, startling him enough to allow Brianne to writhe out of his grip and run at the invisible barrier.

The moment she reached it, however, she was thrown into a suspension in midair, and into incredible agony. It felt as if her entire body was aflame from the inside out, pain flaring from her bones, and as though her skin was being stabbed with millions of invisible needles. Her muscles contorted, unable to take the amount of sheer pain, while nerves spasmed out of her control. Instinct and panic set in, giving Brianne no control over anything.

She was suddenly flung backwards, hitting the back wall of the alley and landing splayed on the ground beneath the naked light bulb protruding from the wall directly above her head. A small pool of cold, unforgiving white light circled her stunned form. Sharp footsteps echoed off the gray stone and metal trash cans as the intruder rapidly approached her. Stepping into the light, he pushed back the hood of his robes, revealing a shock of messy black hair previously hidden.

He smirked, and his emerald eyes glinted maliciously. "Will you come with me, girl, or will I have to kill you now?"

She whimpered slightly as she scuttled backwards, pressing her back up against the cold stone wall. 'No, please just leave me alone," she implored, fear settling above her like a thick haze. "Just leave me alone!" she repeated louder and more panicked, as he did not stop his approach. Her vision blurred slightly as she began to cry.

"Oh, I don't think so," the man laughed hollowly, stepping ever closer to her. "I'm going to have a little fun with you before I take you to Lord Voldemort." He pinned her to the wall forcibly and grabbed her collar, ripping the buttons off of the front of her shirt as he tore the garment from her body. Brianne screamed and began to hyperventilate from fear as she thrashed about, attempting to knock him away.

Lightheaded and exhausted, the last thing Brianne saw before losing consciousness was a lightning shaped scar on her attackers' forehead.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Late into the afternoon, Harry and Ginny had sat underneath their tree, mostly relaxing in the calm of each other's silent company. About twenty minutes previous, Ginny had fallen asleep, her small form nestled snugly against his, a sea of red curls spread out onto his chest. Harry brought a tentative hand up to her forehead, brushing a lock of her hair away from her face.

_How is it possible for someone to look so peaceful and beautiful and not even be aware of it? Just by sleeping..._ Harry shifted slightly, pulling Ginny closer to him so he could wrap his arms loosely around her waist. She stirred and buried her head into his shoulder.

"But Mum, Fred and George _made_ me eat the last cookie," she mumbled softly before falling back asleep. Harry grinned. Ginny was the most random person ever when not fully conscious.

He tilted his head slightly to the left and rested his head on the top of Ginny's, closing his eyes and sinking into the pool of relaxation her presence created. It was amazing, he realized, _that just a simple hug or a hand on my shoulder can bring me out of my insanity..._

A few years ago, right before the war's ending, Harry had grieved so much over the combined deaths of Albus Dumbledore, Cedric Diggory, and Hagrid that at times he was thrown into terrible, destructive rages, throwing things and yelling in his anger and pain. Ginny had been the only one to be able to retrieve his troubled mind from these phases. Her presence soothed him out of his grief, and ultimately brought about his salvation.

He probably would have died in one of his more reckless moments if it wasn't for her.

"I love you, Ginny," he whispered into her ear. 'You've always been here for me, and i hope i can someday return the favor."

Then he leaned back and fell asleep in the golden late afternoon sunlight.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Brianne awoke and found herself gasping for breath, heart pounding and eyes wide open, staring at a dark grey ceiling. She sat up and found the woman Bianca sipping tea in front of the hearth. A bolt of lightning flashed in the window to Brianne's right and startled her already skittish mind. She walked over and resumed her seat from across the seductress.

"Did what I just see really happen? Why didn't I remember it? I knew I was raped, but couldn't recall the experience." she said quietly, stuttering slightly as her pulse began to slow to a regular tempo.

"Yes. That's what happened that fateful night, when one of the old Dark Lord's minions was sent to do some 'dirty work.' He unlocked your powers, Brianne. Wittingly or no, but now you need to use them. powers like yours aren't meant to be wasted."

Brianne cuddled her son close o her chest and started to rock back and forth in indecision. By the vacant expression in her eyes, the older woman could tell that everything would be turning out exactly as she wanted for it to become.

"What's your choice, girl? Are you in or out?" Bianca asked, prodding an answer out of the conflicted girl.

"Well, I - I think I'm in. I need shelter and i want Michael to have protection from harm. For my third reward, in exchange for my services.. I want... I want revenge."

Bianca was intrigued, as the girl's tone had suddenly taken a vengeful and spitefully angry twist. "Revenge on who?"

"Revenge on the man who put me into this situation. On the one who inadvertently made me make this decision in the first place," Brianne ploughed ahead, loathement and abhorrence fueling the power of her words.

"I want revenge on Harry Potter."

Hooray! I'm finally done!!! *breathes a sigh of relief* Happy belated birthday, Katie!

Sorry it took so long, everyone (esp. Derek), but I for one, think it was well worth the wait.

Chapter four be up mid March-ish? I hope... please review! All kinds appreciated, except **'omg, you're so good, i love it, write more fast'** types of reviews. That doesn't help me at all, except they're good for a laugh once in a while.

Flames welcomed, they will be used to heat the band hall.

*with a hug and a kiss and I'm out like this!*

Melodi


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